Trigger Happy Jack
by HarleyQuinn88
Summary: Harleen Quinzel came to Gotham for danger and excitement. She had no idea how much she was actually going to get. Nolanverse Joker/Harley fic with some BTAS references. May be rated M in later chapters.
1. The Mission

**Author's Note: Hey, everyone. I just wanted to let you know that this is my first fic ever (!) and I'm really glad it was a Harley/Joker fic. I'm an avid reader of H/J fics and I've been wanting to write my own story for ages. So please leave me some reviews and try not to flame me too bad. Thanks! :)**

* * *

Harley stepped tentatively into the cold, gray lobby of the asylum. This was to be her first day as a resident at Arkham Asylum, a first in the field given her young age. At twenty-two she had already earned her degree in psychiatry and been accepted at Arkham after a very brief internship at the Metropolis Mental Health Institute.

MMHI had offered her a position at the end of her internship but Harley wanted more than the textbook schizophrenic. She wanted a challenge. She wanted danger. All of that awaited her at Arkham. She had already put a security deposit down on a cheap one-bedroom apartment located dangerously close to but not actually in the Narrows. She spent the majority of her internship moving her belongings out of her parents house in Metropolis and into her new, humble dwelling. She was on her own for the first time in her life. It was exciting. Of course, that was the whole reason she had come to Gotham.

Harley nervously approached the front desk and cleared her throat, causing the receptionist to look up.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked with a hint of annoyance.

"Yes," Harley responded in a high voice, her accent slipping through in her nervousness. "I'm Harlee-- sorry, Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I have an appointment with Dr. Leland."

The woman quickly scanned her computer.

" Ah yes, here you are. Take those elevators to the third floor. Take a left and her office is the second on the right. Have you got that?"

Harley nodded.

"I'll let her know you're here."

"Thank you." Harley said, her voice now steady and her false non-regional accent now back in place.

She headed to the elevator and pressed the UP button. An orderly joined her, carrying a folded up biohazard suit under one arm. Harley stole a sideways glance at the suit. The orderly noticed.

"Biological warfare." He said simply.

"Ah." She replied, though she had no clue what that meant. Apparently it read on her face because the orderly elaborated.

"When an inmate uses bodily fluids as a weapon. That's what they call it in prisons at least."

The elevator doors slid open shakily. Harley and the orderly stepped in simultaneously and the doors closed behind them.

"So you worked at Blackgate, then?"

"Six years, yeah. I started working here about two years ago." He replied, shifting the suit to the other arm.

"How do you like it?"

"Well the inmates are definitely more dangerous because, pardon my French, they just don't give a fuck. Half the time they're so far gone they don't even know what they're doing. But the pay is good and it's pretty enjoyable as long as you don't mind a little excitement." He smiled charmingly at her.

She knew that smile. She had seen it enough times in her life to know what it meant. Before she could give any kind of response the elevator door dinged open. Harley stepped out and continued down the left corridor.

"See you around!" The orderly called as the doors closed on him.

"Yeah." She answered halfheartedly.

She stopped in front of the door marked "Dr. Joan Leland: Head of Psychiatry" and knocked softly two times. A voice from within called, "Come in!" and Harley entered tentatively.

Dr. Joan Leland sat behind her old Mahogany desk, looking seriously at a file, her small rectangular glasses perched on the edge of her nose. She glanced over her frames at Harley and set down her papers.

"Harleen Quinzel?"

"Please, call me Harley. Everyone does."

"Please, have a seat, Harley." Dr. Leland gestured to the seat across from her. Harley stepped forward and sat down. She looked at the older woman in front of her.

Dr. Leland's eyes were stern but fair. Although her hair was black it had faded to gray in some places, revealing her age. She was the antithesis of Harley.

Joan was dark, hard, wise and mature where Harley was young, fair, and incredibly naïve.

"Tell me, Harley. What compelled you to want to work in a place like Arkham?"

"Well the human mind has always fascinated me." Harley answered, immediately regretting it. Of course that's why she was here.

"Well certainly everyone here would agree with you on that. I guess more specifically I'd like to know why you've chosen to apply for the criminal unit." Joan removed her glasses and stared directly at the pretty young girl before her. This was the question she so desperately wanted answered. Pretty young girls weren't interesting in the criminally insane, even in the field of psychology.

"Well what kind of mind is more fascinating than that of the criminally insane? There's so much we can learn by just listening to the way they think and rationalize."

Harley felt confident that her answer was the right one, not to mention it was how she truly felt.

"Please, don't be nervous, Harley. As you know, you've already been given the position. I just wanted to satisfy my own curiosity. Please excuse me."

"No problem. I don't mind answering a few questions about myself." Harley said happily.

Dr. Leland shuffled through the papers scattered across her desk. She heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Is something the matter, Dr. Leland?" Harley tried to sound concerned but really she was just curious.

"You can just call me Joan, if you please." Harley nodded her agreement. "We've just got an extremely difficult patient on our hands. In your own unit as it happens. Though I doubt you'll be dealing with him. He's maximum security and you're on probation, being a new employee."

Harley's ears perked up. That was the kind of patient she wanted to work with. The probation period was a minor setback. Though she could just wait it out, Harley wasn't really known for her patience. However she did have a knack for getting past such formalities. That was her second mission for the week. Her first would be to find out who this extremely difficult, maximum security patient was.

"Why don't we take a tour of the criminal unit and get you oriented?" Joan asked, pulling Harley from her musings.

"Sounds good to me." Harley said.

Both women stood up and Joan led the way out the door.

* * *

They had taken the elevator up to the tenth floor; the minimum security unit for the criminally insane. The walls were line with generously sized 9x9 cells. The doors to each cell were made of 9x9 electronically sealed double-paned bulletproof glass. Harley glanced into the cells as they walked past. Joan was going on about safety precautions but Harley wasn't really paying attention anymore. Something green had caught her eye. She stepped closer to one of the cells on her right while Joan kept walking, oblivious.

There seemed to be a warmth emanating from the cell, unlike the others. Inside, a woman sat on the cot bolted to the wall. When she noticed Harley staring, she set down the potted plant she had been holding and stood up. She was Amazonian in stature, standing a head taller than Harley. Her legs made up nearly half her body and, given the strange, pale green hue of her skin, it gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "Nice stems". Her hair flowed long and unbelievably red down her back. She stared intensely and curiously at Harley with eyes that could be only truly described as violet.

"Ah yes," Joan said from behind Harley, startling them both. "This one is being released tomorrow on good behavior and sound mental state. I myself am rather suspicious of the latter, but I am not the only member on the board. If my suspicions are correct, you'll be seeing her back here before long."

Joan continued down the hallway and Harley saw the entrancing green woman shoot a vicious glare at her before she followed after. That look led Harley to believe Joan's suspicions were correct. She was sure the green woman wouldn't agree but this notion rather pleased Harley. She hoped she would get a chance to talk to her. Certainly she must have quite a story to tell.

They had reached the end of the corridor and Joan was now facing Harley, a heavy metal door labeled STAIRS directly behind her.

"Now I'm going to take you upstairs," she told the girl. "Because it's important you know where everything is, and in case of emergency, all residents on the unit must respond. This includes you. But under no other circumstances should you be on the maximum security floor. Do you understand?"

Harley gave a hard nod, barely containing her excitement about entering the maximum security floor. With that, Joan pushed open the metal door and they began their ascension.

The maximum security floor had far fewer cells, making it appear that the classification was a special privilege of sorts. There were five cells on each wall before the hall stopped short. At the far end was a large set of thick, metal double doors. There were a handful of guards mulling about the floor, occasionally looking into the cells to check on the inhabitants. Something about it made Harley feel rather sick, as if they were checking on dying animals.

"Make sure you stay in the center of the hall. You don't want to excite them." Joan said, beginning to walk forward.

Harley quickly followed, a million questions forming in her head. What patients were housed here? How did they earn max. sec. status? Which one was the 'extremely difficult' patient Joan spoke of before? And what was behind those big double doors?

Joan was talking about preliminary probation and the many dangers of working with someone in max. sec.

"They'd eat a novice like you for breakfast." Harley heard her say.

It had seemed that there was a whistling that had been in the back of her mind ever since arriving on the eleventh floor. Now she could tell it was coming from the fourth cell on the left. When they reached it though, the lights inside were switched off, making it appear unoccupied. Disobeying Joan's order, Harley walked right up to the glass, attempting to peer in. When she put her hand up to the glass to try to shield the light from the hall, the whistling stopped. Harley peered inside. She could hardly make out the figure of a man. He shifted and Harley could make out the vague outlines of his dace. The dark space where his eyes would be, the straight line of his nose. Then the light glinted off something in the area that would be his mouth. Was he smiling at her?

Harley snapped out of her daze and caught up with Joan before the good doctor noticed she was gone. Just as Harley had fallen into stride with Joan, the older doctor stopped in front of the big double doors and turned to the girl.

"… but you won't be needing this facility." She continued. It seemed Harley had missed the explanation of the room behind those heavy looking doors. "Well, that's just about everything. Why don't we head down to level nine and get you settled in?"

"What's on level nine?" Harley asked, confused.

"The criminal unit offices. Didn't I say that?" She probably had but Harley hadn't really been listening.

"Oh, that's right, you did." Harley said, covering her ass. "I guess I blanked there for a second. All that information, you know?"

Joan didn't respond. Instead, she walked directly past Harley to the elevators on the wall opposite the whistling inmate. Harley of course followed.

* * *

"Who was that inmate who was whistling?" Harley inquired.

"The Joker." Joan stated simply.

"The one who-"

"Yes. I really can't say any more about it. I'm sorry." Joan said, keeping her eyes trained on the elevator door.

Harley watched the floor numbers light up, changing from ten to nine. The door slid open and they exited.

"All of these rooms are the offices of your colleagues on the unit. All other rooms are clearly marked. You'll have enough time today to sort them all out." Joan said.

She stepped in front of a wooden door marked "Dr. Jonathan Crane: Head of Internal Medicine, Criminal Unit".

"Normally I would show you the other rooms but I'm actually running late for an appointment. I'm terribly sorry."

"Oh don't be. I'm sure I can find my way around." Harley said, though she wasn't sure where her office was supposed to be.

"Okay, well before I go, this is your office." She pointed to the office behind her. "Maintenance hasn't gotten around to changing the names yet. Cafeteria is on the fifth floor. You can't miss it. It's the only thing there. I've really got to run now but stop by my office before you leave." Joan was halfway down the hall before she even finished talking.

Harley entered her new office and was surprised to see it was already furnished. It looked like something out of a magazine. Everything in its place yet eerily unlived in. The room held no identity of the person who used to work here. It was as if this Dr. Crane had gone through Ikea and randomly picked out one of everything needed to fill an office and then never returned to the room again. Surely the patients couldn't have enjoyed their sessions in here. Harley added another item to her list of goals for the week. She would have to buy something to make her office a little more homey, perhaps some flowers.

She crossed the room and sat down in the large brown leather chair behind her new desk. It was hard and uncomfortable and desperately needed to be broken in. She began rummaging through the desk drawers, coming up with very little other than stray notes written in the classic illegible chicken scratch only doctors seemed to possess. The bottom drawer was locked. Curious to know the contents of the drawer, Harley got down on the floor, removing a bobby pin from her neat bun and proceeded to stick it in the lock. Harley knew nothing about lock picking, especially with such rudimentary tools, but it really couldn't be that hard, could it?

She twisted and turned the pin. She tweaked it this way, bent it that way. When the lock still wouldn't give, she grew frustrated and began to take it out on the lock. Suddenly her stomach gave a loud, hungry growl, causing Harley to jump and break the pin off in the lock.

"Well there goes that plan." She said aloud.

She looked at her watch. 2:45. No wonder she was hungry, she had missed lunch. Giving up on the drawer, Harley decided to obey her stomach and find the cafeteria.

* * *

Joan didn't lie. When you stepped off the elevator onto the fifth floor, you were already in the cafeteria. It was understandable that it would take up an entire floor. It did have to accommodate every single patient in the asylum. At this time though, the cafeteria was nearly deserted. There were a few stragglers, with accompanying orderlies, but that was all. On each side of the large room there were buffet lines--one hot, one cold--manned by cafeteria staff. On the wall furthest from Harley, though, there was a nurses' station. It reminded her of the one seen in _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_ and she had to suppress a giggle, lest she be mistaken for a patient. The nurses' station was undoubtedly for those patients who needed to take their meds with a meal. It was closed up now of course.

Harley made her way over to the hot food line and filled her tray. She paid the portly woman at the end of the buffet and turned towards the tables. She had just spotted one that wasn't too filthy and was heading to it when someone called "Hey!" Harley turned around and saw the orderly from earlier jogging up to her. She let him catch up before returning the greeting.

"I'm glad I ran into you," He said. "I never got your name. I'm Charlie, by the way."

"Harleen." She said, walking backwards toward the clean table.

"That's a strange name. Is it German?"

Harley had heard these words a million times by nearly everyone she met. Her stomach growled again.

"Uh, I don't know. My mom made it up." She replied, still backing up. "I'm actually about to eat my lunch so-"

"Oh I'm sorry. Let's sit down."

He took a towel from his pocket and wiped down the table on his right and gestured for Harley to sit down. She looked back at the other table and reluctantly sat down across from Charlie.

"So what brings you to Arkham Asylum? You haven't admitted yourself, I hope."

"No, I just started as a resident on the criminal unit."

"Impressive. How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Twenty-two." Harley answered.

Charlie whistled low. She hoped that if she kept her answers short and factual, he would get the hint and leave her alone.

"I'm twenty-eight." He said.

Harley tipped her head in acknowledgement and continued eating her chicken sandwich that had already grown cold. She could feel him watching her, as if expecting something. She looked up at him, mid-chew.

"So what do you do for fun, Harleen?" There was that charming smile again.

"Don't know, haven't had the time." It was true.

Between work/interning and moving, she had had time for little else. She didn't feel the need to explain this, though. She really just wanted to finish her meal in peace and get back to her office.

"Aw, that sucks. Everyone should make time for fun."

Harley wrapped her leftover brownie in a napkin and shoved it in her coat pocket and stood.

"I really have to be getting back to work." She said.

"Oh, okay. Well, nice talking to you!" He called, as she was already halfway across the cafeteria.

* * *

Harley rummaged through her purse for the keys that she had just received to be able to unlock her office. She felt around blindly, her hands trying to follow the sound of her jangling keys. Just as she was about to give up and dump out the contents of her purse, they found their way into her grasp and she pulled them out triumphantly.

Door now unlocked, she stepped inside and switched on the light. It was only four pm but winter nights in Gotham got dark quickly. She shut the door and hung her white lab coat on the back. When she turned back toward her desk, she saw something strange.

Sitting in the middle of her desk was a slender, blue vase with a tag tied around its neck. In the vase was a single rose. Harley looked around, confused. Who could've gotten in here? The door had been locked. She approached the vase warily and held up the card.

It read: _Come up and see me sometime. -J_

Harley took the note and made her way quickly up to max. sec.

* * *

**So I know, not really much Joker in this chapter, just a little cameo. Though I promise the next chapter will be loaded. The task of writing the Joker is a little daunting so I'm trying my best. I felt this chapter went by a little quickly and I'm trying to slow down what happens a bit. What do you think, was it too fast? By the way, I don't really have a plot laid out for this story. I write best by just putting pen to paper and seeing what happens so whatever happens, I'll be just as surprised as you!**

**Please, lots of reviews! :D **

**-Chelsea**


	2. Closer

**Author's Note: Thank you guys for reading, reviewing, and adding me to your story alerts! I hope you enjoy this chapter, as we get a closer look at the Joker :D **

**I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, so the following applies for this, the last, and future chapters: If you recognize it, I don't own it. **

* * *

The lights were on in the Joker's cell now. He was laying on his cot in the back corner of his cell. At this angle, his face was still obscured.

"What was this doing in my office and how did you get out of your cell?" She asked, hastily and out of breath.

"Now you don't really expect me to reveal all of my secrets, do you?" He asked without looking up.

"What would the guards say if they knew you had been out of your cell?" Harley threatened, hoping to get answers.

He sat up and she saw him for the first time. He looked at her from behind dirty, green curls. His deep green eyes stared at her, penetrating right to her core. It unnerved Harley, made her feel incredibly vulnerable. His skin was a naturally sun kissed gold, and his mouth-- Old, knotted, white scars stretched from the corners of his mouth to halfway up his cheeks. A permanent smile carved into his face. Harley could easily imagine what he would look like without those awful scars, and he was beautiful. The Joker let her stare for a moment, noting the fact that she did not stare at his scars like most people, but looked directly into his eyes. Her gaze made him uncharacteristically uncomfortable, so he spoke.

"If you were really going to tell on me, you would've done it already." He called her bluff.

She said nothing, taken aback by his statement. The Joker relished her reaction. In one fell swoop he was off his cot and at the glass in front of her. Harley flinched at the movement, despite herself. He looked at the pretty little doctor. A petite little thing with dangerous curves. Blonde hair pulled into a tight, uniform bun. Thick framed glasses magnifying already big, piercing blue eyes. This was a girl who was used to men throwing themselves at her. Yes, she had probably been with many men she had no feelings for. And those glasses were a joke. She probably bought them at a convenience store the day Arkham hired her, thinking they'd make her appear smarter. The girl was one big, walking joke, even her name was a joke. Harleen Quinzel. Her parents must've had some sense of humor. It was no wonder she wanted to be called Harley, as Leland had done. Harley Quinzel. Ha! He broke out into his signature laugh, doubling over at his own joke.

"What's so funny?" The little thing asked, making him laugh so hard he fell to his knees.

The Joker put his hands on the glass to steady himself. Harley let him get it out of his system and he soon calmed down enough to speak. He leaned back on his heels and looked up at the young doctor. From this angle, one could look up her skirt, but he was hardly interested in that right now.

"Harleen Quinzel is such an interesting name. Rework it a bit and you get Harley Quinn." He said, still chuckling a bit.

"The French word for clown? I've heard it before." She said, clearly not amused.

The Joker tried to hide his disappointment at the fact he wasn't the first to discover this joke.

"You know, I think it's fate that you and I met. I could have a lot of fun with you. Are you a good listener, doc?"

Harley hesitated.

"I bet you're a great listener, which is perfect, 'cause boy do I have a story for you." The Joker said, baiting the hook.

"I'd love to help, but I'm on probation. I can't work with you." Harley said regretfully.

"Aw, c'mon, doc," He rose, now looking down at her. "I'm sure a smart girl like you can find her way around something like that."

Harley thought about her goal to get onto max. sec. Perhaps he could tell her which of his fellow inmates was the one she was looking for.

"I really feel like I can talk to you. All those other doctors, they don't get it." He continued. This was almost too easy.

It tugged at her heartstrings. A patient was crying out for help, _her_ help. Still, there was the matter of the other patient.

"Mr. Joker," This amused him a bit. "Perhaps if you help me, I could help you. I'm looking for another patient on this floor, a male. I don't really know anything about him other than that the other doctors describe him as being extremely difficult. Any idea who that could be?"

The Joker threw his head back and began cackling once again. That laugh made the hairs on the back of Harley's neck stand up. Eventually he regained his composure.

"Honey, have you even looked in any of these other cells?" He asked. "I'm the only one here. I'm your guy."

Harley looked around disbelievingly.

"But, before, the guards-"

"Were checking on the inmates?" He said, mockingly. "One of Warden Sharpe's rules. His way of keeping them alert."

"If you ask me, it's not working." She replied.

The Joker howled with laughter again.

"Oh, I like you. You've got spunk." This made her blush. "So whadda ya say? Therapy every Tuesday and Thursday?"

* * *

Harley entered her crummy apartment, tossing her keys onto the nearby kitchen counter and chucking her purse onto the couch in the living room. She was exhausted.

Min. sec. had been at the center of asylum-wide chaos today. Harley had noticed how the patients' outbursts tended to escalate with the full moon. She was surprised she hadn't been called up to max. sec. because of the Joker acting out. Word was that he was being unusually well-behaved. Harley had a guess as to why.

She kicked off her heels next to the door and walked into the kitchen. She opened the cabinets one by one, sighing. Of course there was nothing to eat. Opening the fridge, she settled for a soda. She really didn't feel like running out for food right this second. She still had a huge pile of research waiting for her in the living room. Soda in one hand, other hand unzipping her skirt, Harley made her way into the next room.

She set down her glass on the coffee table next to a large stack of files and newspaper clippings. She slid off her skirt and tossed it toward the hall leading to her bedroom. Then she did the same with her garter belt and stockings. Now relaxed and comfortable, Harley lay on her stomach across the couch. She pulled a file from the top of the pile and propped it up against the arm of the couch to read it.

* * *

Patient ID #11496875

**Name:** Unknown

**Aliases:** Joseph Kerr, J. Reko, Clem Rusty

**Age:** Undetermined

**Height:** 6'2"

**Weight:** 160 lbs

**Date admitted:** July 20, 2008

**Diagnosis:** Sociopath (pending)

**Assigned doctor:** Dr. Joan Leland (No longer active as of 10- 22-08. No replacement assigned.)

**Current medications:** Ambien 50 mg hs (subject to change)

Thorazine 500 mg daily

Lamictal 600 mg daily (subject to increase)

**Initial report:** Since arriving on the unit under Batman's supervision, the patient has taken great pleasure in antagonizing the staff. A vast amount of knives were confiscated from his person by the MCU upon arrival. In accordance with Batman's request, the patient has been placed into maximum security and will be under 24 hour surveillance until further notice. Patient is defiant and oppositional towards treatment. He refuses to provide any information such as his name. Tox. screen has returned negative.

**Goals**: Attend therapy sessions twice a week

Effectively communicate feelings in a non-violent manner

Meet the standard behavioral expectations of the maximum security unit

**Projected release date:** Ineligible

* * *

Every other report dated after that was nearly identical. The Joker wouldn't talk except to make trouble and the diagnosis was inconclusive. The only thing that seemed to change was his medication. Since his arrival, they had given him every antipsychotic and mood stabilizer or had simply upped the dosage. With each new doctor assigned to his case, he grew more and more violent. Those doctors that he didn't fatally wound, he toyed with. Given that the latter occurred more often, Harley guessed that he enjoyed it more. He was the proverbial cat playing with his mouse before growing bored. It seemed, though, that all of the Joker's "mice" here had either become patients themselves or had resigned before it was too late.

It had been nearly three months since Harley had found that rose in her office. In all that time she had researched the Joker top to bottom. She knew all of his tricks by heart and felt she was finally ready to take him on. It had also taken her all that time to convince Joan she could hold her own against him.

"If he can behave himself for six weeks, I'll give you a trial run. If he shows progress, I'll officially assign you to him. But don't get your hopes up." Joan had told her.

When the coast was clear, she had sprinted up to max. sec. to share the news with the Joker.

In one week, Harley would be having her first session with him. As the days went by, the butterflies in her stomach had grown bigger and bigger. Now, here she was, rereading her files as she was beginning to lose confidence in her abilities.

Harley tossed the file onto the coffee table and reached for the remote. Flipping onto her side, she switched on the TV. The channel had been left on TCM and one of her favorite movies was playing; _Meet The People_. As Virginia O'Brien was sang "Say That We're Sweethearts Again" she rested her arm behind her head and settled in.

* * *

Harley awoke to the sound of her phone ringing, whatever dream she had been having dissipated like a cloud of smoke and was almost immediately forgotten. She had fallen asleep on the couch. The sun was already shining brightly through her window. Harley sat up and looked around for her phone. Tracing the sound to her purse, she picked the thing up and shuffled through its contents until she saw the light of the LCD screen. Just as she picked it up, it stopped ringing. The phone beeped and its screen flashed 'One Missed Call'. Harley flipped open her phone and read who the call had come from. The screen lit up again, this time reading 'One New Voicemail'. Harley dialed her inbox and listened.

"_Hi, Harley, this is Joan. We were wondering if you were planning on coming in today as it's now ten o'clock. I was also wondering if you would be willing to reschedule your appointment with the Joker for today. So, please let me know if we should be expecting you and whether you can meet with the Joker today. Thanks, bye._"

"Fuck!" Harley exclaimed, running into the bathroom and turning on the shower.

* * *

When she finally arrived at Arkham a mere twenty minutes later, Harley rushed straight up to Joan's office.

"I'm so sorry I'm late." She said upon entering. "I've been researching the Joker's case like crazy. Did you still want me to meet with him today?"

Joan leaned back in her chair and heaved a great sigh.

"The new DA is questioning the Joker's insanity. She wants to take him to trial and get him sent to Blackgate instead." She told Harley.

"So what does that mean for us?" Harley perched tentatively on the edge of the chair across from Joan.

"Well there's no doubt in anyone else's mind that the Joker is as crazy as they come, but if this goes to trial, I guarantee he'll get himself into Blackgate. If that incident down at MCU is any indication, breaking out will be a piece of cake. We need to keep that from happening while he's still in our custody."

"So what are we going to do?" Harley felt like maybe Joan thought she was a little slow for asking.

"That's why I wanted to get you in there with him today. We have to prove that he's crazy and that means getting him to talk. You're our last chance, and we're on a deadline now."

Harley was silent. She knew what Joan was asking. If she couldn't get the Joker to talk and prove he was crazy, she might as well unlock his cell and personally escort him back into the free world.

"I've scheduled for you to meet with him at 12:30. So have an early lunch and then head up to max. sec. therapy… I'm sorry to put this kind of pressure on you."

"It's alright, Joan. I'll get him to talk." Harley said.

She stood and left for her office. On her way, she tried to recall everything she could from her files. She knew his height and weight, his scare tactics, the play-by-play details of his reign of terror in Gotham. Anyone who had been in Gotham last summer could tell you for a fact that the guy was nutso. Apparently, this new DA wasn't one of them. She wanted more than eyewitness accounts from an entire city.

Harley entered her office and took off the light sweater she had worn in and replaced it with her lab coat. She clipped her badge onto her lapel and exited once more, locking the door behind her. She made her way over to the elevators and pushed DOWN. The doors sprung open immediately. Stepping on, she heard someone call "Hold the door!" from around the corner. Though Harley was tempted to shout "No!" and continue on her way, she stuck out her arm and held the doors open until the person had caught up.

"Hey!" They said, stepping on. It was Charlie.

Since starting here, Harley had been fortunate enough not to be stuck talking to him. They had seen each other in the halls several times, but had both been preoccupied with work.

"It's been a while, huh?" He asked, giving her that same I'm-trying-too-hard-to-be-charming smile.

"I guess." Harley responded.

"I would've talked to you before, but you always looked so busy. I didn't wanna interrupt you."

"Thanks." Harley could appreciate his courtesy, at least.

"But now that I've got you here, do you have any plans Saturday?"

She had been wondering when he was going to ask that. Now what? She was stuck on an elevator with a guy she didn't really like and he was asking her out. What would Xena do?

"Look, Charlie," She said. "You seem like a really nice guy but I'm not really looking for anything right now."

The elevator doors opened onto the cafeteria and Harley exited.

"Fucking bitch." She heard Charlie say before the doors closed.

When Harley had bought her lunch, she decided to take it with her back to her office. This time she took the stairs. It was an arduous haul from the fifth floor to the ninth, but she didn't want to chance another run-in with Charlie right now.

Out of breath and a Styrofoam container of food in one hand, she unlocked her office and let herself in. Eating in here would be an advantage, she decided. She could continue to work while she ate, and if she wanted to be left alone, she could lock her door. Harley did just that and situated herself behind the large desk, the rest of the Joker's files strewn across her desk pad. She picked up an article on the top of the mess and read through it quickly.

**JOKER CONTINUES REIGN OF TERROR, BLOWS UP HOSPITAL**

BY Patricia Santana

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

**Gotham City - **The city was in a frenzy earlier today as police scrambled to evacuate every hospital in the area after a bomb threat made by the Joker.

As Coleman Reese, a lawyer for Wayne Enterprises, had been preparing to reveal the true identity of Batman on Gotham News, the studio received a call from the Clown Prince of Crime.

"If Coleman Reese isn't dead in 60 minutes," The Joker said. "I'm going to blow up a hospital."

Commissioner James Gordon of the GCPD and the Major Crimes Unit, led his men and the men of the GCFD into an evacuation and subsequent search of all local hospitals. School buses were also brought in to transfer the evacuated staff and patients.

"Our priority is Gotham General." Gordon told the press. Being that GGH is the city's number one choice in healthcare and has the largest staff and housing limit, it was an obvious target for the Joker.

Gordon's guess was correct. Shortly after the last bus pulled out, the hospital went up in flames following several loud explosions. All patients and staff members were safe and accounted for. Though one bus carrying our own Mike Engel, and roughly fifty patients and staff, seem to have gone missing. There is no word yet as to the bus's whereabouts.

The GCPD has told us that the hospital's most valuable patient, District Attorney Harvey Dent, is safe and recovering. The White Knight was rumored to be dating Rachel Dawes and… continued on p. 8C

The continuation of the story was missing from her files, but it seemed to just be standard Gotham socialite gossip. Harley really couldn't care less about who the DA was sleeping with.

Checking her watch, Harley decided to start heading up to max. sec. She stuffed the rest of her sandwich in her mouth and grabbed a large notepad and a pen from the top drawer of her desk. Wiping a spot of mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth, Harley left her office and locked it behind her.

Still leery of Charlie, she once again took the stairs. At least she was getting some exercise. From the slight burn in her calves, she could tell it had been too long since she had a good workout. Once she had started college, she quit practicing gymnastics in order to get in as much study time as possible. Though she missed her balance beams and uneven bars terribly, she was trying to become a psychiatrist, not an Olympic gold-medalist.

Now that Harley had secured her spot with the Joker, she hoped that she wouldn't have to do anymore background research. Then maybe she could start practicing again. Besides, it had always been a great stress-reliever in high school, and god knows she'd have plenty of stress with this case.

Harley reached the eleventh floor and pushed open the door. The guards were mulling about the floor, enjoying their job of doing nothing. She made her way to the other end of the hall, noting the emptiness of the Joker's cell. He was already waiting for her. She had to assume that the room behind those mysterious double doors was max. sec. therapy. She approached the guard standing at the doors and held up her badge. He nodded and she proceeded to the doors.

As her hand came down onto the door handle, those butterflies from before returned once more. Now they were so strong she felt as if they were consuming her whole body. Harley took a deep, calming breath and reminded herself that she was just working herself up. She had talked to him before without a problem. Only this time, there'd only be a table separating them. This last thought caused the butterflies to stir once again.

Without another thought, Harley took another deep breath and opened the door.

* * *

**Well I know I left you with another cliff-hanger, but it will definitely be worth it. The next chapter will be Harley's first session with the Joker. I haven't written anything yet, but I plan on watching The Dark Knight 100 times in a row to make sure I get him right. So be patient if I don't update as quickly as last time. Remember to review! Thanks :)**


	3. The Little Things Give You Away

**Author's Note: So over the weekend, I left the notebook I write the first draft of this story in at school. Otherwise This would've been posted a few days ago. I know it's a bit shorter than usual, but I'm already working on chapter four, which should be equal to or longer than this. I just wanted to reward you for your patience instead of waiting several more days to post. So enjoy the Jokeriness and the other special characters that make an appearance in this chapter. Also, enjoy the Rocky Horror Picture Show reference thrown in. Ten points to whomever spots it. :)**

* * *

"Well, well, well. Right on time, doc." The Joker said in his nasally tone.

His eyes followed her slow, nervous trail from the door to the metal table bolted to the middle of the floor. He could almost smell the nervousness on her. She hadn't been so that first day. She must've read his file. They all thought they were hot shit until they read his file. She sat herself gingerly into the metal chair adjacent to him. She attempted to shuffle her seat forward but it didn't move. It too was bolted to the floor. The Joker gave a howl and Harley blushed.

"Let's begin at the beginning, shall we?" Harley was surprised he was actually going to talk so soon. "Tell me about your childhood. Did daddy beat you? Did mommy smother you? Were you neglected? Underappreciated? Am I close yet?"

"Mr. Joker, I believe I'm the one who's supposed to be asking the questions." Harley was a little uncomfortable with how close he had been at describing her life growing up.

"Well those are the questions you want answered, aren't they?" He asked, smacking his lips.

"Well would you like to tell me about your childhood?" She asked, opening her notebook and readying her pen.

"No." He gazed at her, bored.

"What would you like to talk about, then?" Harley persisted.

"I wanna talk about you." The Joker leaned forward in his seat, as much as his restraints would allow, keeping his eyes locked on her. "I wanna talk about how you got this job. So young yet so accomplished, it raises questions. I wanna talk about your twenty-twenty vision."

Harley self-consciously pushed up her glasses.

"Why would I be wearing glasses if I had perfect vision?" She tried to challenge, but to her own ears, she sounded unsure.

"They didn't take you seriously in college, did they? Another bleach-blonde bitch who thinks she's too pretty to work so instead she's just gonna fuck her way to the middle."

Those words got Harley's blood boiling. She had heard them too many times before.

"I worked my ass off to get this job." She defended.

"They don't believe you though, and that pisses you off. Nobody ever gave you the recognition you deserved. Your parents didn't, your teachers didn't, and now your co-workers don't. They talk about you when you're not around. They say little Harley must've blown Sharpe pretty good to get a job here, let alone a session with the Joker!" He smacked his lips and blinked slowly.

Harley looked right back at him, giving nothing away. Inside though, she felt like her whole body was shaking with years of hurt and anger. She could feel tears threatening to make themselves known. Balling her fists under the table, she struggled to keep her composure.

"You're reading an awful lot into a pair of glasses." She finally responded.

The Joker threw his head back and howled his bone-chilling laughter. It sent a shiver, not of fear but of excitement, down Harley's spine. She didn't know what to make of the sensation.

"You see, I knew I'd like talking to you, doc."

Harley closed her notebook and capped her pen. She stood and began to walk towards the door.

"Aw, c'mon, doc." He teased. "We were just getting started. In fact, I think I'm having a breakthrough right now!"

The Joker laughed at his own joke and Harley looked back at him.

"Just have a seat and we'll talk about whatever you want." He held up three fingers and his voice went deep. "Scouts' Honor."

Harley considered him for a moment. Her professional mind told her not to indulge him, to keep walking. Her emotions, however, were mixed. On the one hand, she could barely contain the hurt that was raging inside of her, tearing at her insides. On the other, she felt an uneasy excitement at being so close to such a dangerous man. Even as he said these hurtful things, she wanted to get closer. As if by hearing him pick her apart, she would magically be able to do the same to him.

He tilted his head toward her and looked up, licking his lips lazily.

"Truce?" He asked.

Harley turned back and sat down. She reopened her notebook and uncapped her pen.

"What is your birth name?" She asked, prepared for anything.

"I don't do that on the first date." He replied.

Harley pressed on, expecting no less.

"Do you think killing is wrong?"

"Do you think lying is wrong?" He countered.

"Yes." She was afraid she had lost control of the conversation again.

"Then why do you do it every day?" He licked his lips, his eyes ever-concentrated on her.

It unnerved her, the way he always stared at her. She felt like he was reaching in and revealing the truth about her just with those eyes. She looked down at her notebook, but she could still feel him watching.

"You didn't answer my question." She said.

"No… You didn't answer mine."

"I don't lie." That was a lie.

He let out a peal of laughter again.

"Honey, you're so full of shit, every word out of your mouth so far has been a lie. Go on, tell me one true thing. One thing that no one in this world can prove false. Can you do that?" His voice had become nasally again on this last part.

Harley was silent for a second. Should she indulge him or try to take control of the situation again? She watched those eyes bore into her, penetrating deeper and deeper but never resurfacing. No matter what she said next, it would be the wrong answer, either for him, or for herself. Instead she said nothing. She once again gathered her things and headed toward the door. This time, the Joker said nothing to stop her. That was it, he thought. She was done. Little Harley Quinn didn't want to play the Joker's game anymore and that was no fun. When her hand landed on the door knob, she hesitated.

"I'll see you this time next week." She said and exited.

It was absolute truth and the Joker howled in triumph, writhing in his seat and bucking against his restraints. Oh he was going to have some real fun with her. Just when he thought he had her all figured out, she did something new to make him rethink the whole thing.

* * *

When Harley got home that night, she kicked off her shoes, tossed down her purse and keys, and ran to the bathroom to relieve her overfull bladder.

Washing her hands, she looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Her glasses reminded her of what the Joker said about her. Of course she could not, and would not admit it to him, everything he said had been true. The frustration at not being taken seriously, never receiving praise for her hard work, her attempt to be respected professionally by wearing a pair of non-prescription glasses she had bought at the Gas 'n' Shop. It had taken all of her will-power to not cry when he had said all this. It hurt because it was all true, and she knew that. He had out-psyched the psychiatrist. She couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing this, though. She needed to gain control of the situation. And she certainly couldn't tell Joan. She had succeeded inasmuch as she had gotten him to talk. The only problem was that he was talking about _her_.

Harley snatched off her glasses and tossed them in the little trashcan next to the toilet. She splashed some water onto her face and dried off her hands. She once again unzipped her skirt and removed her stockings and garter. She exited the bathroom and walked into her bedroom.

Tossing her dirty garments into the hamper in her closet, she crossed the room and turned on the lamp next to her bed. She flopped onto her bed and closed her eyes.

She had to get the Joker to talk about himself. She needed something she could use. Right now, he was deflecting her questions. There was something he didn't want her to know. Either she would have gain his trust or provoke him into talking. The latter would probably take forever, if at all. She would need to find something that would piss him off. Knowing his history, this could be a fatal move, but something told her it was her only choice. She had faith he wouldn't kill her, at least not yet.

* * *

Harley awoke out of what felt like a coma. It was still dark, though and she looked at the alarm clock on her nightstand. Only about five minutes had passed. She was cold. Sitting up, she realized she was in her shirt and panties, above the covers. Without standing, she reached over to the dresser that stood only two feet away from the edge of her bed. Opening the second drawer down, she pulled out a pair of old sweatpants that had "Metropolis Tigers" printed down one leg. She removed her panties, throwing them toward her closet, and replaced them with the sweatpants. She did the same with her shirt and bra, replacing them with an old t-shirt from the same drawer. Pulling back the covers, she climbed in and almost immediately fell asleep.

* * *

Harley sat in the staff lounge, sipping her coffee slowly. She was very reluctant to start working, though she couldn't say why. It was just routine rounds today. No Joker.

"Good morning, Harley!" Joan said brightly when she walked in. "How did the session go yesterday?"

"I'd say rather well for a first session. Nothing useful yet, though." Harley hoped she didn't ask _what_ they had talked about.

"Well of course not. It's only the first session. I don't expect immediate results."

Joan pulled a paper cup from the stack next to the coffee pot and filled it. She added a few packets of sugar and snapped a lid on it.

"Well, keep me posted, alright?" She asked.

"Mmhmm." Harley responded, attempting a convincing smile.

Joan nodded and left. A moment later, she was back.

"Ah, Harley. Level eight is short-staffed today. Would you mind covering some of their patients?" She asked. "Bill can field yours."

"Um, okay. I'll be down in a second." Harley accepted.

A change of environment sounded too tempting to pass up today.

"Thanks so much. Dr. Hower will help you when you get there." Joan disappeared again.

Almost immediately, she poked her head in and gave Harley a quizzical look.

"Did you-?" She began, then shook her head and left again.

* * *

Harley was met with a whole new experience when she arrived on level eight. At once it was made clear the difference between the criminally insane and the just plain insane by the security measures they took. Though she was on max. sec., the patients were no more secure than the min. sec. patients of the criminal unit. Glancing down the hall, she approached the first lab coat she saw.

"Excuse me." She said and the doctor spun around. "I'm Dr. Quinzel, from the criminal unit. I'm here to relieve some of the work load."

"I'm Mr. Nigma." The man replied. "No Dr. I'm just an intern. I think the person you want to talk to is Dr. Hower."

"Yes, I was told he would help me. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find him, would you?"

"Dr. Quinzel?" She heard a man say from behind her.

She turned to see a short, balding man poking his head out of an office doorway.

"Dr. Hower." He nodded his confirmation.

The portly man looked past her at the intern.

"Edward."

"Dr. Scott!" Mr. Nigma exclaimed.

Harley suppressed a giggle. Dr. Hower scowled but did not move from his spot in the doorway.

"Dr. Quinzel, thank you for coming down. Unfortunately, we are still quite busy and I am currently with a patient. Edward here can get you started with whatever patient needs the most immediate attention." With that, he closed the door.

Harley turned back toward the intern. He raised his eyebrows and gave her a goofy smile.

"Looks like it's just you and me, then. What do you sat we team up and do twice the psychoanalyzing in half the time?" He asked.

"Sounds like a plan." She replied, and they began down the hall. "Would you prefer I call you Edward or Mr. Nigma?"

"Oh, Eddie's just fine." He said. "Would you prefer Dr. Quinzel or maybe Dr. Quinn, medicine woman?"

Harley chuckled.

"You can just call me Harley."

"Harley it is."

Eddie was nearly a foot taller than her. He was lanky and took half as many steps to match Harley's stride. He had a shock of messy red hair that played off of his plastic hunter green frames. There was an everpresent riddle of a smile playing on his lips.

"So, what's life like upstairs? I hear you've got the Joker up there." Eddie asked as they continued to walk.

"Not as exciting as you would think. I think probably the only difference between them and these guys is the title." She said. She wasn't sure what to say about the Joker. "They're pretty tame, except during-"

"The full moon? Yea, I've noticed that. Makes sense though, don't you think? I mean we really are working with lunatics."

"Good point… Umm, do you think perhaps we should meet with someone?"

They had reached the end of the corridor. They both turned and looked back down the hall.

"If we must." He joked.

Heading back down the hall, an inmate called to them.

"Heyheyhey!" He said. "Is anyone gonna talk to me or what?"

Harley looked to Eddie. He in turn looked down at the files he had been carrying.

"Are you feeling safe today, Victor?" Eddie asked.

Harley leaned closer to read the man's file.

"Uh huh." Victor answered eagerly.

"There's a very pretty doctor that would love to talk to you today. I'd hate for you to scare her away." He pressed.

"I'll be good. I promise." Victor's impatience was rather suspicious to Harley.

"Eddie?" The skinny man looked down at her and she gestured him away from the cell.

"What is it?" He asked in hushed tones.

"He seems a little too eager to get us in there. I don't think it'll end well."

Eddie nodded seriously and walked back over to Victor's cell.

"Tell you what, Vic." Eddie said. "Dr. Quinzel and I are going to meet with the other inmates. If you can behave yourself until we're through, we'll meet with you."

Victor looked back and forth between Eddie and Harley, bounced on his feet and rolled his eyes.

"Okay, deal." He finally said.

"Shall we?" Eddie said, holding his arm out for Harley to take.

She looped her arm with his and they made their way down the hall.

* * *

At the end of their rounds, Harley and Eddie, very much enjoying each others company, returned to Victor's cell. Eddie unlocked the door as Victor stood at the back like he was instructed. Receiving the go-ahead, Harley entered.

* * *

"Harley? Harley! Can you hear me?" A far off voice said. "Harley, I need you to stay awake."

She struggled to open her eyes. Slowly, everything came into focus. She was sitting against the wall in the hallway of basic max. sec. Eddie was crouched next to her, looking concerned.

"What happened?" She asked weakly.

"Victor attacked you; slammed your head against the glass several times." He said gently.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"I'm fine." Eddie chuckled. "But you're a little concussed. I need to take you down to the infirmary. Can you stand up for me?"

Harley slowly shuffled her feet and reached for Eddie's shoulder to pull herself up. When she was standing, the room began to spin. She stumbled forward into his arms. He caught her deftly and slung one of her arms around his neck. He hoisted her up and carried her down the hall to the elevators. Her eyes growing heavy, she couldn't fight the urge to sleep.

* * *

**Well, that was quite a lot to handle over the course of two days. The next chapter will feature much more Joker as Harley begins to give in to her urges to be near him. And of course, with each chapter we will continue to see more and more of him. Please review and let me know what you thought of our first extended look at the Joker! Hope I haven't lost any readers yet, and I hope to also see some new ones in the reviews. :) Thanks so much!**


	4. Wicked Game

**Author's Note:**** Hey everyone, sorry for the delay. I know I promised a nice long chapter but the past two weeks have been ridiculous. After this weekend though we should be back on track. So until then, here's a very Joker-filled chapter to hold you over. **

**I'd also like to give a shoutout to Moko-Moko Monster who just published their very first JokerxHarley fic a few hours ago and asked me to review it. It's called 'Call Me Crazy'. So when you're all done here and still want some more Joker, head on over and read it :)**

* * *

Harley locked up her office and began her trip up to max. sec.

It had been a week since her first session with the Joker. Less since her guest appearance on basic max. sec. followed by her brain rattling courtesy of Victor.

Joan had reprimanded her for her lapse in judgment.

"It could've happened to anyone." She had argued.

After much going back and forth, Joan had finally agreed to let Harley continue her sessions with the Joker, only because there was no one else who could take him on.

She hadn't seen Eddie since the attack. After he brought her to the infirmary, Dr. Hower had paged him back to max. sec.

Now, heading to another session with the Joker, she was once again thinking about the things he had said to her. The fact that she had forgone her glasses did not go unnoticed by her coworkers. No doubt the Joker would notice as well.

* * *

They were having a staring contest. Harley was waiting for the Joker to get impatient and say something. The Joker was content to sit and stare at the pretty doctor, unnerving her and revealing her secrets all at once. Harley resisted the urge to scratch an itch on her nose. She remained still, only blinking occasionally. The Joker sporadically ran his tongue along the insides of his mouth, never blinking. As the tingling and tickling got stronger, Harley's fingers began to twitch as she tried to restrain them from reaching up and scratching her nose. Eventually, she could hold out no longer.

"Where are your glasses, doc?" He asked when she finally scratched her nose.

She adjusted her papers, avoiding answering his question. She didn't need to encourage him. She needed to distract him with something shiny. Luckily, an idea had come to her during their little staring contest.

"I'd like to talk about the Batman." She said, looking up at him.

He let out a peal of laughter, pulling on his restraints, the chains rattling against the metal chair. The sound reverberated against the walls and crashed into Harley's ears. It still ran an abnormally exhilarating chill down her spine.

"You remind me a lot of Batman. You both take yourselves so seriously. You need to learn to smile." He licked his lips and pushed his hair back. "Do you ever smile, doc?"

"Of course." She answered, not sure where he was going with this.

"Do you ever mean it?" He pressed.

She thought about the false smile she had given Charlie. That was the last time she had smiled. Sure she smiled almost every day, but she couldn't recall the last time she had meant it. Is that bad? She thought. Best not to think about it, not now at least.

"Do you think Batman ever smiles?" She countered.

The Joker ran his tongue along the inside of his scars and regarded Harley with a sideways look. She was deflecting. She learned quickly. At this rate, they weren't going to get anywhere. He would just have to outmaneuver her.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" Leaning back, he continued before she could respond.

"My father was a very serious man." He began slowly. "He went to work, came home, ate dinner, fucked his wife and went to bed. He never took pleasure in anything he did… until the circus."

Harley sat up and began jotting this down quickly. As her eyes followed the words she wrote, he watched her mirthfully. Her naiveté was sickening yet somehow still endearing. When she stopped writing, he continued.

"When the Ringling brothers came to town, dad loaded us all up in the family car and we went down to the big top. Dad was serious through the entire show. You woulda thought he was watching someone do their taxes. But when the clowns came out, I heard a sound I had never heard before in my life. My father was laughing!" The Joker said, as if he still didn't believe it. His mood shifted quickly. "I became insanely jealous. All my life, all I ever wanted was to make my father smile; to see him show some sort of appreciation for me. No matter what I did, his face never changed. Now here these strangers were making him laugh like he did it every day!"

He was visibly hurt. Sorrow and anger fought for control across his face. Then he regained his composure and leaned forward conspiratorially.

"For the next few weeks, I practiced the clowns' routine in secret. I taught myself to juggle, to do all the physical gags I had seen them do. I even stole a pair of my father's pants so I'd have something big enough to hide my tricks in: the never ending handkerchief, the bike horn the water spritzer.

Then one day, while my dad was reading the paper, I came in and put on my own little circus for him. My performance went off without a hitch. I ran around and tripped over my own feet, I honked my horn and sprayed myself with water, I pulled the hankies out of dad's pants. If PT Barnum were there, he woulda given me a job on the spot."

Harley was giggling uncontrollably at the image of a young Joker running around his living room performing all these crazy stunts. A shadow fell over the Joker's face and Harley quieted herself. She had a feeling his story was about to take a sad turn.

"When I was finished, my father folded his paper, stood up and walked right past me without a word."

"That's awful!" Harley said, her voice thick with heart break at the Joker's disappointing story. How could a father be so cold? She thought. Then again, she already knew.

"I was so angry with him!" He continued, becoming more animated with each sentence. "Wasn't I a good enough clown? Didn't I smile big enough for him?

"So I ran into the bathroom, took a razor from his shaving kit and did this," He turned his face to showcase his scars, "and I rushed out to my dad. 'Look, dad!' I said. 'Are you happy now?'"

Harley was a little sick at the Joker's impetuous action. The Joker began to break into a fit of laughter as he continued his story. He laughed harder and harder, teary eyed as he reached the punch line of his own joke.

"And the joke is: when he turned and saw my mangled, bloody face, he was so horrified it gave him a heart attack!" He cackled with sheer delight. "He died right there on the kitchen floor! I reached down, and with the razor I had used, I cut his face to match mine. So you see doc, I finally made my father smile!"

Harley's face filled with shock and horror as she imagined the final interaction between the Joker and his father. Upon seeing the typical human reaction, the Joker let out the loudest, longest laugh she had ever heard.

Even when he had stopped, his laughter continued to follow her down the hallways as she hurried back to her office. It echoed in her head as she typed up her first report on him. It seemed to chase her up the stairs as she climbed the floors leading to her apartment. No matter where she was, it was right there behind her.

* * *

For the next few weeks, that laughter haunted her. While interviewing patients, it seemed to grow louder as they described the most horrible acts of violence. When she was alone, she could hear his voice echoing the words he had spoken that day. Every day it got worse. It drowned out all of her thoughts, and she could barely hear it when someone was talking to her. She knew he would drive her insane, but that didn't seem to bother her. In a way she knew it would happen eventually. What concerned her was the fact that she was enjoying it.


	5. Rest My Chemistry

**Author's Note:**

** Hey everyone, so glad to see the reviews. I see I've gotten some new readers. That makes me happy. I deeply apologize for the wait and also for the extreme shortness of this chapter. I'm personally not a fan of this chapter. It's really just filler. But we do get a little Joker flashback and character development. So enjoy and review!**

* * *

Harley laid in her bed. The sun was beating through her window, warming her blankets. Her eyes were closed and she could see the insides of her eyelids glowing red in the light. It was Saturday, no work. She tried to let her mind wander to less stressful things but it always found its way back to the Joker.

Their weekly sessions, in true Joker fashion, were unpredictable. In the six weeks that they had been talking, Harley had gathered little information. She still had no name, no birth date, no proof that he was even insane. And to be honest, Harley didn't really care.

She was filled with electric excitement every time she began her walk up to see him. She loved how she never knew what to expect when she opened those double doors. Harley loved listening to him talk, and apparently he loved talking. The story about his father had set off that trend. Harley didn't fight it. As long as he was telling her something, she was satisfied.

After going through her notes, she decided to pick up an old topic. She asked him about his killing philosophy. This had set him off on a long, animated tangent. Chaos, anarchy, survival of the fittest, animal instinct. This tangent carried into their next session before evolving into a discussion.

* * *

"Are you a neat person, doc?" The Joker asked, breaking off from his speech.

"I beg your pardon?" She wasn't expecting him to stop, let alone ask her a non-rhetorical question.

"Do you make your bed?" He elaborated. "Keep your clothes off the floor? Wash your dishes when your done with them? Do you keep things in order?"

"Well, no. My parents always told me to do that stuff but I never listened." She answered honestly. She learned that lying to the Joker was just a waste of time.

"Why not?"

"Well when my clothes are on the floor, I know where everything is. I just can't stand it when everything's folded up in a drawer." She opened up a little, always willing to talk about herself. "And what the hell is the point in making your bed when you're just gonna mess it up again anyway?"

The Joker reveled in the sight of straight, reserved Harleen Quinzel letting loose and actually _ranting_.

"My mom always said it was just supposed to look nice, especially in case we had guests. But, come on. It's a bed. Anyone who sees my bed probably sleeps too and knows that when you sleep, your bed gets messy."

A low chuckle began to rumble in the Joker's throat. Harley stared at him, confused. His laughter grew into a loud cackle. He could always see through her façade but now, it was cracking. With a little more pressure, it would break away completely and there would be Harley Quinn, pure and simple. The prospect excited to Joker.

"What?" She asked when his laughter had begun to fade.

"If I were your therapist, I'd be a very rich man."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"You say you don't care about appearances like making your bed, but you come in here every day trying so hard to look so smart, and attractive and professional. You're a contradiction." He sat back and watched her reaction.

Harley thought about what she had just said. She should never have even told him that. But of course he was right. She always talked about not caring what people thought, but every day she made sure she looked nice and presentable, and most of all, serious.

"You know, doc? I think I was wrong when I said you were like the Batman. No, I think you've tried really hard to make people think that." He leaned forward and licked his lips quickly before continuing. "No, now I see, underneath it all, you're just like me. You find order in chaos. In fact I'll bet you find comfort in it. Am I right? You need too stop fighting what you are and just… be.

"Here's what I want you to do. Tomorrow morning, when you're getting ready for work, I want you to get dressed in the dark. Don't do your hair, don't do your makeup, just come as you are. Live your own philosophy and fuck appearances."

She had chickened out. The next morning, she had stood at her closet and thought long and hard about doing it, but she just couldn't.

* * *

The sound of her phone vibrating on her nightstand caused Harley to jump. She grabbed her phone and opened her eyes to read the Caller ID. Not recognizing the number, though it was local, she answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello, may I please speak with Harleen?" The voice asked politely.

"This is her. Who is this?" She answered.

"Oh, Harley, hi. It's Eddie." The now familiar voice said happily. "Didn't wake you, did I?"

"Nah, I was just laying around. How did you get my number?"

"That's a riddle you'll just have to solve for yourself." He replied slyly. "In the meantime, come out to lunch with me. I've been wondering how you were doing since our last run-in."

"I'm just fine, actually. He didn't knock me around too bad… What time is it?"

"Almost two. I called earlier but you must've been sleeping."

"Yea." Harley rolled onto her side and casually gazed out her window. "So where did you have in mind?"

* * *

Harley gave a slight shiver as she sat on a bench in Gotham Center. Spring was fast approaching but there was still a bite in the air. She looked back and forth across the park, her eyes moving like a metronome. Eddie was running a bit late.

A moment later, Harley could see his bright red hair appear from across the way. As he grew closer she stood to greet him.

"Sorry I'm late. I figured we should just get Burger Barn and eat here." He handed her a fast food bag. "Hope I got something you like."

Harley looked in the bag and saw a burger and fries. It would do. They sat down on the bench Harley had been occupying and dug in.

"So what compelled you to call me today?" She asked, munching on a fry.

"Well besides wanting to see how you were doing, you're just good company. I kind of wanted to get to know you outside of work." He replied.

"So is this a date, then?" She asked, half-serious.

"Nah," Harley was slightly relieved. "I don't know you nearly well enough to ask you on a date. We're just two colleagues having a meal outside of work."

"Ah, is that what we'll be reporting to HR?" She joked.

"What's there to report?"

Harley opted for a bite of her burger instead of an answer. Eddie did the same. They sat there for a bit, both eating their meal.

"So what does Harley do when she's not working rigorously?"

"Well, lately that's all I do. I got to work and work. I come home and work. I go to sleep and have dreams about being at work. It's been pretty time consuming. Especially working with the Joker."

There. It was out. The Joker was constantly on her mind and now she had a healthy excuse to talk about him.

"I'd imagine so." Eddie ate the last bite of his burger, balled up the wrapper and threw it into the paper bag. "So who else do you work with, the patients I mean."

Damn. He hadn't taken the bait.

"Oh I just do regular rounds with everyone else. The Joker is really my primary patient. I meet with him twice a week." She twisted the focus back to the Joker.

The urge to talk about him and only him was overwhelming. She could see him in her mind, laughing. That tan skin glowing under the fluorescent bulbs, his scars pulled taught and white as his mouth stretched to it's full reach. As if the laugh was so big it could hardly fit through his mouth, it threatened to tear open his scars to break free. Harley became unexpectedly aroused at the image.

"Well I'm sure you don't wanna talk about him right now." But I do! She thought. "Hey I've got a riddle for you. This thing all things devour: Birds, beasts, trees, flowers, gnaws iron, grinds steel, grinds hard stones to meal, slays kings, ruins town, and beats high mountain down. What is it?"

Harley thought for a moment. Well rust would gnaw iron, but it wouldn't slay kings. Oh, it was so easy!

* * *

**Just to let you guys know I've recently started writing a screenplay so I'm trying to spend equal time on both projects. What that means is either a longer period between updates or shorter chapters. Personally I like doing these short chapters. And as a reader, I've always hated a long wait between chapters, especially with cliffhangers. So please let me know in the reviews what you would prefer. Either way I hope you will continue reading, reviewing, and adding me to your alerts if you haven't already.**

**Thanks for your patience! :)**


	6. 1 Crush

**Author's Note:**** So sorry this took so long to post! Well you asked for shorted chapters so here they are. I've been at my BF's house the past few weeks so I didn't write as much as I wanted to, but the chapters after this WILL be longer. This is really just a filler chapter to connect the events together. Things are about to get interesting, and I promise to post within the next two weeks. So thanks for being patient and enjoy!**

* * *

"Batman was here last night." Harley stated casually, skimming her notes.

Over the weeks, her notes consisted less of actual notes and more of doodles and hearts and the Joker's name written a thousand different ways.

"He finally committed himself?" The Joker asked, giddy. "You know he's crazier than you and me put together."

"I'm not crazy." Harley said with fervency.

"Well the jury's still out on that."

The Joker jerked uncomfortably in his restraints, sliding low into his seat then popping back up in a completely different position. He did this several times before he had maneuvered his feet up onto the table and had crossed them at the ankles.

"Do you think you're crazy?" She asked, disregarding his peculiar display just a moment ago.

"If I think I'm crazy that would mean that I'm sane. And if I think I'm sane that means I'm crazy, right?" His tongue darted out of his mouth and quickly retreated. "Isn't that how you decide who stays and who goes around here? Why don't you tell me what answer they wanna hear."

"They want to hear that you're crazy." She answered.

"Why?" He asked, bored.

"They want to keep you here. They think Blackgate will be too easy for you to break out of."

In one fluid motion, his feet were back on the floor and he was leaning as far across the table as his restraints would allow.

"And what do you want to hear?" He said low enough that only she could hear.

"I want to hear you're crazy." She looked down at her lap.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" He asked.

She avoided his eyes. She felt extremely vulnerable right now and feared that if she looked at him she would turn to stone, or crumble, or both.

"No."

* * *

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel, you have been treating the Joker for six months now." District Attorney Bitchface asked Harley. "In your sessions, have you found any solid proof that the Joker is certifiably insane?"

No, Harley thought. The time had come for her to give her professional opinion on the Joker's mental state. Joan had called her into conference room C and become subject to interrogation.

"Yes," She answered aloud. "In every session I have had with the Joker, he had exhibited antisocial and sociopath behavior in the extreme. He lacks empathy, shows absolutely no remorse for his actions, and holds human life- including his own- in no regard. All of this aside, to look at what he has done to this city and still allege that this man could be sane is simply ludicrous."

Harley felt triumphant having used as many ten dollar words as she could think of to prove a point didn't actually believe. The Joker's permanent placement at Arkham was now guaranteed thanks to her testimony.

"Can you tell me about the allegations that your relationships with the Joker was less than professional?" The cold woman asked, as if Harley hadn't said a word.

She was caught. It was true over the past months it or so her feelings for the Joker had become harder to conceal as they grew stronger. The true descent had started when she confessed her feelings to him. That had been when she agreed to let him play therapist, officially. After that, the role reversal continued. Harley felt safe divulging her deepest secrets and fears to him. She even dropped her accent when she was with him.

"Those allegations are completely and utterly false. I care deeply for all of my patients, but that car is always professional."

"Thank you, Miss Quinzel." She condescended. "That will be all."

* * *

"So, how did your meeting with the new DA go?" The Joker inquired at their next session. "Am I doomed to an eternity of psychotherapy?"

"Well, they've decided to keep you here." She answered shyly.

"Because of your testimony." His tone was humorless.

"Yes." She squeaked.

In one fluid movement, he was across the table, his hands around her throat.

"You stupid bitch!" He bellowed.

Harley knew she should be scared. She couldn't breathe and her vision was blurring. She would be unconscious soon and no one would be able to stop the Joker from doung whatever he pleased. This new thought only proved to excite her. He stopped abruptly and stared at her. She wasn't resisting. Huh. This girl never ceased to surprise him. He kept his hands around her neck, just enough to keep her in place.

"Where do you live, Harley?" He asked in his dangerous, nasally tone.

Don't tell him! Her head screamed. He wants to kill you!

"The Chelsea Arms. Near the Narrows." She couldn't stop herself. He said frog and she jumped.

"That's an awfully dangerous place for such a spoiled girl." He eyed her, trying to figure out just what this girl was all about.

He had covered his ass well enough by spelling out her past for her. But still, there was something there just out of reach. The only other person he had met like that- some tempting yet untouchable side of them- was the Batman. He'd take care of the doctor later. He had to solve the bigger puzzle first.

* * *

**So like I said, I'll be posting sooner and you can expect at least 1,000 words in each chapter. Oh and for those of you who were perplexed by Eddie's riddle in the previous chapter, the answer is Time. Please review! I love you all :)**


	7. Junkie

**Author's Note:**** As promised, here is your shorter chapter, sooner. Things have taken a turn here and I must warn that the beginning of this chapter is for Mature readers only. And for those of you who were wondering where that riddle was, it was at the end of chapter 5. So now you have the answer, you can go back and find out what the question was, haha. Please Enjoy!**

* * *

Harley stood in her bathroom, examining her neck in the mirror. The Joker had definitely left his mark on her. She touched the bruise gingerly. Her skin felt hot, as if he had burned his handprints into her flesh, branding her for all to see that she belong to him.

But did he feel that way? She asked herself. Was it just another violent act from a formidable man or had he really done it with the intent of marking his territory?

She had told no one about their close encounter, and she didn't plan to. If anyone knew that he had attacked her, they would take her off his case immediately. Luckily, she had not run into anyone in the time between their session and her departure from the building. Tomorrow though, she would have to use every ounce of concealer she owned to cover the bruises. Lord knows it was too hot to wear a turtleneck.

Harley placed her fingers over the clear outlines of the Joker's hands. Hers looked like children's hands compared to his. This notion made her feel safe, as if his big, strong hands--though around her throat--would protect her from harm.

She closed her eyes and replayed the brutal events in her mind. As clear as day, she could see those dark, yet somehow human eyes watching her every struggled breath. She could almost feel his weight on top of her. Instinctively she ground her hips upward, as if trying to get ever closer to him. Removing one hand from her neck, she slid it, trembling, down over her breast and continuing down the length of her stomach.

Her other hand pressed tighter and tighter across her throat as she watched him in her mind, squeezing the life out of her. It was at that point that he had stopped, but now, in her memory, she replayed the previous scene again.

Harley had deftly unbuttoned her skirt and slid her hand beneath her panties. She rubbed softly at first, but as she repeated the scene in her head, her strokes and small circles became larger and more fevered. A soft moan escaped her lips and rose louder with each gasping breath. As her excitement rose, and it seemed she could not move any faster, she let out one long, exultant cry. She then slowly released her hand from her throat and the other from between her thighs. Her whole body shaking, she slid down the wall she had been leaning against. Her breath still heavy, she opened her eyes and looked around at her bathroom in a mix of disappointment and satisfaction.

* * *

Harley sat in the large leather chair Dr. Crane had left in the office that was now hers. It had been almost a year and she had yet to break it in. It was thus added to the list of things in her office that she could not break in to, the top of the list including the file drawer in her desk that she tried to open on her first day.

At present, Harley was trying to find the right way to open her latest report on the Joker. Every attempt to create an opening paragraph only resulted in little hearts with J+H written on them and a rather accurate sketch of the Joker's eyes and mouth. She had drawn the extremely detailed picture from memory, never failing to remember which scar was placed where and at what angle.

She was acting like a lovesick schoolgirl, and she almost didn't care who knew it. But she couldn't tell anyone about her feelings but him. If she did, they would certainly lock her up too and she would never see the Joker again. The mere thought nearly brought her to tears.

The obnoxious monotone of her office phone shook her out of her hypothetical sulking.

"Dr. Quinzel. How may I help you?" She answered.

"Harleen, the Joker's escaped." She heard Joan say in a monotone to rival her phone.

Harley could say nothing. Joan continued.

"He got hold of an orderly and used him as a human shield to exit the building. He took off in the orderly's car." Joan paused for Harley's reaction but it never came. "Well, I just thought you should know so you don't waste your time going up to max. sec. So um, you can just do rounds until the cops can get a hold of him again, or we can reassign you if you wish."

Harley's jaw lay open, her eyes threatening to flood.

"Well, let me know what you decide… Bye." There was a dull click on the other end of the phone.

As if being controlled by someone else, she slowly set down the phone. As if the sound of the handset touching its cradle had broken some trance, Harley began to sob uncontrollably. Her whole body convulsed as she went from anger that he had left her behind without warning to fear that he might get hurt or even die out on his own. He was in bat country now. Who knew what wretched fate he had planned for her angel.

Her fear then shifted to excitement. Excitement at the prospect that he might come and find her. He had, after all, asked where she lived just the day before. This excitement once again turned into fear. Her apartment would probably be one of the first places the cops would look for him. No, he couldn't see her, as bad as she wanted him to.

She was torn. On the one hand, she feared for him out on his own and hoped the cops would find him soon and bring him back, safe and sound. On the other hand, she feared what the Batman and the police might do to him if they catch him. They might beat him, send him to Blackgate, or worse, kill him! All she could do was pray that her angel was safe, and that he might come back to her just the same.

* * *

**I'm actually rather please with the way this chapter came out and think it works quite well in a short installment. I hope you all agree. So please, keep rating, reviewing, and adding me to your alerts. Hope my previous delays haven't cost me any fans!**


	8. Consoler of the Lonely

**Author's Note:**** Hey guys! Sorry about the wait. I really meant to post a whole lot sooner but then life knocked me out and handcuffed me to a radiator. But I'm back and I'm kind of happy with this chapter. I know that between this and the last, we haven't really seen any Joker, but don't worry, he'll be back next chapter. I'll try to post that a little sooner. **

**Before we get started though, I have some spiffy news to share with you all that will hopefully make up for my late posting. First: For those of you who haven't heard, go over to TheJokerBlogs .com and check out his youtube. This guy is fucking amazing! Oh, he has the Joker's mannerisms down perfectly and the videos are so perfectly done. My only qualm is that the actress playing Harley in these videos sucks. Oh well, that brings me to my second bit of news: After discovering the Joker Blogs and being disappointed by Harley, my boyfriend had the idea that we take the fanfic right here and turn it into a Harley webshow! That is, if I can find a decent Mistah J. Otherwise we might just change the names and only you wonderful people will be in on the secret that it's really supposed to be Joker and Harley ;) That might be a while off though because we have to buy the top-o-the-line video editing software to make it look spectacular for you, so it will be on YouTube by December at the latest. But I will keep you guys posted on any updates with that. In the meantime, read this new chappie, then head on over to the Joker Blogs and have wonderful Joker dreams tonight! Enjoy! :)**

* * *

"What is that ringing? Do I have a tumor?" Harley's ring-tone repeated over and over.

She hadn't answered her phone for several days. It was safe to say that she had slipped into a depression. The Joker hadn't come back, hadn't tried to contact her, he hadn't even been mentioned on the news since his initial escape. For all she knew, ol' Bat-brain had killed him quietly and thrown his body over the Narrow Borough bridge.

As much as she tried not to imagine the worst possible scenarios, they always managed to force their way back to the front of her mind. Every time she thought about it, she cried just a little bit harder than the time before.

How had he gotten such a hold on her heart just from getting a hold of her throat? She knew it was wrong. Her conscience, though faint and dying quickly, told her she shouldn't have such feelings for him. But there was a stronger voice in her mind that quashed her conscience, a voice that seemed so much more rational. Sometimes it sounded like him, others times it was her when she was six. Her Metropolitan accent thick, the last traces of her early childhood lisp still present.

This voice spoke the truth. It told her she belonged with "Mistah J" as he inner child called him. Fate had brought them together, and maybe it would bring them together again. That was the thought that kept Harley from committing suicide altogether. That little nugget of hope, brought to you by the voice of reason and the letter J. Soon enough though, she was thinking about her angel out there by himself with no one to care for him and the cycle started all over.

Her phone beeped, alerting her that she had a new voicemail. Still high on hope, she decided to give it a listen. Perhaps it was Joan calling to tell her that they found the Joker alive and well and they're going to bring him right to her.

_If only, _she thought.

Harley rolled over on her bed, one round hip protruding upward as she lay on her side and reached for her phone.

"Hey, Harley. It's Eddie. How are you doing?.. Right, this is voicemail, you can't answer. Well, I know it must be really tough for you and I think we're all pretty shaken. I just want to make sure you're alright and still alive. I'd like to come over, if you don't mind it. I just think we both might feel a little safer if we're not alone… Don't worry, I don't wanna try anything. I'm just a friend worried about another friend… Well, please call me if you'd like some company. I don't know about you, but I could certainly use it. God, I'm rambling now. Oh! Before I go, I've got another riddle for you. I hope it brightens your day a little bit. Kings and queens may cling to power and the jester's got his call. But as you may discover, the common one outranks them all. Well, hope to hear from you soon. Bye."

Harley liked Eddie, and she liked his penchant for riddles but she wasn't in the mood to not talk about the Joker to him. It was times like these she wished she had a girlfriend she could tell anything to. But she was never one to have close friends.

* * *

Monday rolled around and she had to drag herself to her Joker-less job again. It had been almost a month since he escaped and not even a whisper about him had been passed between gossipy nurses. With each day she didn't hear about him, Harley's anxiety grew. She couldn't concentrate on her work. Her thoughts were consumed by him, her private worry wearing through to the surface. Her hair was messily done up, she didn't even bother with make-up, and her clothes were generally disheveled. Even the patients were starting to notice something was wrong with their usually perfect doctor. She didn't care what they thought of her appearance. There was only one man she cared to look nice for and he was gone.

Harley shuffled her feet down the hallway toward her office. She needed some time to herself. Sitting with two patients in a row was becoming physically exhausting. Actually, everything had become rather exhausting since he left. She was weak, depressed, dejected. All she wanted was to curl up and die and just get it over with.

"Harley!" A voice called from behind her.

She turned to see Eddie approaching her, his hair a tangled ginger mess on the top of his head. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week.

"You look like hell." She said, trying to process the change in attitude of the man who was always so happy around her.

"If I look like hell, you look like death itself." He quipped, then turned serious. "Have you talked to anyone?"

"I don't really feel like talking." She answered tiredly.

"Harley, as a psychiatrist, you need to be practicing what you preach right now and get some help!" He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. The fact that she nearly buckled under the force did not go unnoticed. "Or you're likely to become one of them."

She wasn't listening. She just wanted to lay down and not think for once.

_That's why I'm so tired, _she thought. _I've been thinking too much._

She lazily blinked her eyes, in a way so reminiscent of him that she nearly broke down and cried in Eddie's arms. Instead she backed out of his grasp and continued toward her office.

"Did you at least get my riddle?" Eddie called after her.

"Ace." She said with disinterest as she stepped into her office and shut the door behind her.

_

* * *

_

_His mouth took up everything in sight. Those gnarly scars stretched and twisted in front of her. Though she couldn't hear it, she knew he was laughing. She wanted so badly to hear his laugh, to hear him say anything. _

_Suddenly she was running down a wet street in the middle of suburbia. It was night and the neighborhood seemed uninhabited. She was running as fast as she possibly could, but it felt like her legs were stuck in quicksand. Her heart was racing. She was running out of time. She had to find him. _

_She was standing in her kitchen. It didn't look like any kitchen she'd seen before though. Eddie was leaning against the fridge. Was it Eddie? It sure didn't look like him. She tried to ask him something but all he did was repeat that riddle he had told her in the park. _

"_Where do you live, Harley?" The Joker asked from somewhere far off. _

"_Will you come visit me, Mistah J?" She heard herself ask in her six-year old voice, even though she couldn't see him._

* * *

Harley swiftly faded out of sleep as her phone began to ring. Reaching an arm out in the dark, she grasped blindly for her phone on her nightstand.

"Hm." She answered.

"Harley, it's Joan. You need to get down here. Now."

* * *

**Okay, so who else is excited about Joan's random late night phone call? For anyone who didn't get it, that whole italics section was a dream. If it happens again, now you know what it looks like. Also, there were some silly references in the beginning there. The first one was Harley's ringtone. That's from the movie Grandma's Boy and it's actually my ringtone lol. The other was a small Sesame Street reference.**

**So anyway, please review/alert/favorite!! Oh, and if we ever had a daughter, we would name her Lyle. Now go watch the Joker Blogs so you can get that joke :p**


	9. Asylum Doors Stand Open

**Author's Note:**** Well, I was so inspired by the Joker Blogs and Mad Love (which is evident in this chapter) that I had to go and post some more for you guys. So you get a two-fer. Just make sure you've already read the previous chapter as I've only posted them a day apart. So enjoy! I know I did.**

* * *

Harley tore open the doors to Arkham Asylum and quickly glanced around the lobby before running toward the elevators. She knew why Joan had called. It was him. He was back. She had to see him and make sure he was okay.

She pressed the UP button several times, her breath heavy and ragged. Losing her patience, she ditched the elevator and opted for the stairs instead. Throwing the door to the stairwell open, Harley ran up the steps two at a time, ignoring the pain growing in her side from lack of exercise.

When she reached the criminal unit, she rammed her way through the stairwell door and turned sharply onto the main corridor, her feet sliding across the floor like a scene from Risky Business. It was there that she stopped as she took in the sight in front of her.

Several orderlies were huddled around something in the middle of the corridor. To their left, Joan and Warden Sharpe stood overseeing the goings-on. With them was none other than the Batman. One of the orderlies shifted his feet, revealing a purple clothed leg ending in a brown, scuffed shoe.

She knew it was him and, given the silence, he was unconscious. What had that bastard bat done to him! Her brain finally connecting with her feet, Harley rushed forward.

"Everyone move aside!" She commanded. "I'm his doctor."

The group of orderlies parted for her, the one nearest to her turning to face her. It was Charlie, that prick who wouldn't leave her alone when she started here. He met her eyes then looked back down at the incapacitated Joker and gave him a hard kick in the side. As if they were somehow connected, Harley winced in pain. It took all her willpower not to lunge forward and claw the little weasel's eyes out.

"Don't touch him!" Batman growled, scaring Charlie back a few feet. "He's no threat to you now."

Always the upstanding hero, wasn't he? At least right now he was protecting her angel.

Harley rushed to the Joker and knelt beside him. She had never seen him in his make-up before unless it was in pictures. The sight of his war paint, especially up close was terrifying yet exciting. The colors were starting to run together from the sweat, sinking into the cracks in his skin. God, even through the paint, he looked half-dead. She reached out a hand and gingerly brushed the damp hair from his forehead. She had thought it was damp from sweat, but now she could see the now-dried blood coming from his hairline.

"What have they done to you?" She said loud enough that only he could hear, had he been awake.

"You should get him to a cell," Batman said in that annoyingly gravelly voice. "before the sedatives wear off."

"Joan, I'd like to stay with him until he wakes up… So I can get some answers from him." Harley added, looking up at the weathered woman.

"Well, that's rather unorthodox, Doctor." Warden Sharpe cut in. "Surely, any questioning can wait until your next scheduled session."

"I'll be more likely to get more information out of him if he's still slightly disoriented." Harley countered, standing to face them. "Joan, you know he'll talk to me. I need to be there for him. He needs to be able to count on me… as a psychiatrist."

"Warden, I believe letting Dr. Quinzel stay with the patient will be beneficial to all of us." Joan persuaded the bald curmudgeon.

"I can't be at this all night." He answered before walking towards the elevators. "Do as you wish."

With that the elevator doors opened and Warden Sharpe stepped in. Joan then turned around and opened her mouth to say something to the Batman, only to find that he was gone. After a moment of recovery, she turned to the group of orderlies huddled on the other side of hall.

"Charlie, I'm putting you on suspension for a week. Turn in your ID at reception." She said, the prick staring open-mouthed at her. "The rest of you, please escort Dr. Quinzel and the patient back to his cell."

The orderlies quickly got to their new task, each picking up one of the Joker's limbs and hauling him to the elevator. Harley started to follow the struggling procession, but Joan motioned for her.

"Harley, I'd like you to continue your regular sessions with the Joker along with an additional session on the weekends if you're up to it. We can pay you the overtime. Arkham's budget is slim, but if it can go toward keeping the most dangerous man in Gotham locked up safe, it's worth it. I'd like a full report by tonight."

Harley nodded and Joan followed suit. Without another word, Joan walked toward the elevator where the orderlies were now waiting for Harley's arrival. Just as Warden Sharpe had done, Joan stepped onto the elevator and disappeared behind the sliding doors. Harley then joined the orderlies and they began their ascent to max. sec.

* * *

It was a surreal experience watching the Joker sleep. At first he was still, as the drugs were still in his system. As they wore off though, he shifted seamlessly into a natural sleep. Harley imagined he must be exhausted after whatever it was he went through out there. It was amazing how harmless and human he was as he slept; how he twitched and occasionally snored just like everyone else. Though, even in slumber, she could feel the raw energy and power radiating from him.

She had set up a chair in front of his cell. At first she had watched him diligently, hoping that at any moment he would wake up and be happy to see her. Eventually, watching him sleep so peacefully began to make her tired as well. For a while, she struggled to keep her eyes open. She didn't want to miss the moment he was awake. She had to stay alert. She had to…

* * *

"_Mistah J?" Little Harley called out. _

_She could feel his presence but he was nowhere to be found. She was running down that dark, deserted suburban street again. She wasn't as alone as it appeared though. The voices began to fade in, louder and louder until they enveloped her. The voices of her childhood classmates surrounding her. "Harley Quinn, Harley Quinn" they repeated over and over and over. She tried to block them out but they penetrated straight to her core. She wanted to scream, to tell them to shut the fuck up and leave her alone. She wanted to hunt down each and every one of them and bash their fucking skulls in._

"_Harley Quinn." They said again._

_But wait, it wasn't her classmates speaking anymore. It was him. _

"_Mistah J?" She called hopefully._

"_Rework it a bit and you get Harley Quinn." His voice echoed from some unknown place._

_Her heart swelled with joy every time she heard him utter that name. Somehow, when he said it, it just felt right._

* * *

Harley's clipboard slipped out of her hand and clattered to the floor, startling her out of her dream. She jerked in her chair and looked around her. It was silent and dark. It must still be night. She looked at the Joker. He was still fast asleep. Her heart ached immensely to see him locked behind that glass wall, battered and bruised. How long before this happened again, she wondered. She knew he would escape again, as soon as the opportunity presented itself. But once he was out there in the world, she couldn't do anything to protect him. Either way, she was dissatisfied. She had to do something.

"Everything's gonna be okay, Puddin'." She said softly.

* * *

Taking a broken chunk of curb from the side of the road, Harley chucked it at the door of Kathy's Kostumes, shattering the glass and giving Her an entrance. Inside, she found exactly what she needed. Grabbing a costume from one of the racks in the back, she quickly threw it on and started to leave. A thought struck her and Harley returned to the cash register of the closed up shop and left payment on the counter. She couldn't just steal from Kathy. What had the woman ever done to her?

Her next stop was the gun shop, and she would need plenty. This task wasn't quite as easy as the costume shop had been. The gun store had a security system that went into effect as soon as she shattered the front door. Moving quickly, she grabbed as many guns and boxes of ammo as she could carry in her arms, as well as some explosive clay and got out of there before the cops showed up.

* * *

The Joker was having a lovely little dream about skinning someone when a large explosion rudely shook him from his sleep. Fully alert, he clumsily fell off of his cot and, sitting on the floor, looked to where his bulletproof glass wall used to be. Now there was only smoke and debris. As it settled, he could make out what could only be the outline of his voluptuous doctor. She was wearing a formfitting black and red jester costume with diamonds on it. In her hand was a semi-automatic. Never in his life had he seen such an arousing image.

"Mistah J," She said in that obnoxiously adorable accent. "Say hello to your new and improved Harley Quinn!"

* * *

**Well, it gets quite interesting from here on out. Are you excited? As alway, continue to review/alert/favorite and there shall be more soon! **


	10. Important Note From the Author!

Hey guys, sorry for the delay, and unfortunately you must wait just a while longer. Things have kind of hit the fan in my life and I'm currently struggling to find a job so that I don't get kicked out of my apartment and become homeless. I also don't have my own computer at the moment, I wrote this at the library computer. But I should know what my future holds in about two weeks and I have a flashdrive so I can update from the library.

I really miss Harley and Mr. J's world and can't wait to get back. I'm sure you all feel the same. But please be patient, and hopefully no one has deleted me from their alerts or favorites. So bear with me! Hopefully we'll be up and running again soon. Thanks!


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